Evening Star
by samanddianefan10
Summary: Sequel to Happy Birthday. Charles and Margaret go on a late night picnic at the beach. Can he let his gaurd down for her?


_A:/N: I know it's highly unlikely that they would leave the premises for a few hours but let's just go along with it for story' sake. Thank you and enjoy!_

It was Charles' birthday, and Margaret had just presented him with a gift. Charles unwrapped his birthday present, which revealed itself to be a maroon hand-knit scarf. Margaret took it and wrapped it around his neck, smiling at the sight. It fit him perfectly if she thought so herself.

"Well, it's not the thickest of materials. It may be more of a hindrance then a help should the cold weather arrive." Charles looked down at the scarf, and then up at Margaret's crestfallen face. "However, the handiwork is outstanding and I believe it is my favorite birthday present this year. Thank you, Margaret, for salvaging what had started out to be such a rather unremarkable day. I must say, your generosity truly impresses me." He took her hand and gently kissed it.

"I'm not generous. I'm your friend. Isn't that what friends do? I'm sure you would have done the same thing for my birthday." Margaret took his hand in hers and watched his face for an expression. "You would have, wouldn't you?"

"I'm quite sure that I would have found a way to celebrate your special day. You mean…" he stopped, not wanting to reveal more of his true feelings than he was ready to. Things take time, and seeing as they had only declared their feelings for each other, he decided it was best he take his time in revealing too much of himself to her. Intimacy was a challenge, one in which he honestly was not sure he was capable of giving. But for his sake…for the lovely young blond nurse's sake- he was certainly willing to try.

"You- your kindness, your courage, your caring, your passion- they mean a great deal to me, Margaret. I just wanted to tell you that. It's not often that I can speak of my feelings and when I do it's often with a great deal of difficulty. I don't have the way with words around women the way other men perhaps might, but when I speak I can assure you, it is from a place of honesty and truth. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your gesture tonight, Major. It was very gracious of you and I shan't forget it."

Margaret grinned, knowing how hard it was for him to speak to her from the heart. "I think you can call me Margaret now."

"Ah, yes. Margaret. Margaret." And so he repeated her name as he leaned forward for a kiss.

The two enjoyed the moment as the candles continued to burn brightly.

"Wait." Charles pulled back. "I have a better idea. Let's go for a picnic."

"Now?"

"Yes, now? Why, can you think of a better time?"

Margaret smiled, impressed at his impulsivity. "A picnic sounds lovely Charles. Lead the way."

"Let's wrap up the caviar, you do have a basket I presume? Lovely. Here, let me grab these glasses for you and we shall be set." Charles said, grabbing the bottle of brandy and packing it in the basket along side their other treats.

" This will be just perfect." Margaret clapped her hands in delight. "And the best part is that no one will know what we're doing or we're going."

"I've had enough of Hunnicut and Pierce to last a lifetime. They are at Rosie's bar, so that should buy us plenty of time to leave camp unnoticed. Let's only trust that we may find a jeep. I need to talk to Rizzo, so please give me a few minutes."

Moments later, Charles returned, having parked the jeep outside of Margaret's tent.

"Did he give you any trouble? Was he suspicious?" Margaret asked as she hurriedly shut the door behind him.

"Rizzo, suspicious? Ha! The only thing he's capable of being suspicious of is of that which pertains to him. It made no difference to him where I was going with this jeep- My rank assured him that it was none of his business. Now, let's not spoil this lovely evening by speaking of …..Rizzo, shall we? I can think of far more pleasant topics. Browning? Auden? Mozart? Schubert? Rachmaninoff? My dear, the night is so young." Charles took Margaret's hand and kissed it, causing her to smile widely and relax her whole body. All of her cares about being caught were slowly being erased by the promise that this evening held.

They jumped in the jeep and drove off to a local beach. They lay down their blanket and basket in the perfect spot.

"It's perfect, Charles! Look at the beautiful colors of the sky. We came at the perfect time." The stars were just beginning to appear.

"Oh yes, evening.." Charles began and he took Margaret's hand. She kicked off her shoes as they began to walk in the sand.

" _Twas noontime of summer and midtime of night; _

_and stars in their orbits, shone pale thro' the light._

'_Mid planets her slaves , Herself in the Heavens._

_Her beam on the waves. _

_I gazed awhile on her cold smile; _

_Too cold-too cold for me_

_Three passed as a shroud_

_A fleecy cloud._

_And I turned away to thee _

_Proud evening Star_

_In the glory afar_

_And dearer thy beam shall be;_

"Oh, Charles." Her eyes filled with tears, as she had longed for a man to quote poetry to her. How it pleased her to hear such words flowing from the mouth of her companion. Poetry was like magic, it had a soothing quality to her ears. Not too many men in her life understood the power of words. In some ways she missed Frank Burns at times. He did write her poems. Few people understood their connection, but his poetry was something special he did for her that few others had. And now here was Charles Winchester- no Frank Burns- quoting poems off the top of his head? And undoubtedly he knew many many more poems, this was just the beginning. She grew chilled thinking of the special meaning behind the words he'd just spoken.

"Are you alright, Margaret? I suppose I've bored you. Many women these days seem to find Edgar Allen Poe boring but his words are immortal. His words shall undoubtedly live on until the end of time. Do you agree?"

"Absoulutely." She said as she skipped ahead, anxious to walk along the shore line. "Take off your boots."

"Are you mad?

"Take off your boots."

"There are rocks and numerous other things that I could cut my feet on. No. "

Margaret turned to face him.. "Take off your boots." She said sternly, and so he complied.

"Now just roll up the cuffs of your pants. Like that. Very good. Come along now."

Boots in one hand, Margaret's hand in the other, Charles walked along the beach, allowing the water to graze his feet.

"Tell me, Margaret, who do you prefer, Mozart or Schubert?"

"Mozart." She replied confidentally.

"Really?" Charles was pleased. "Why is that."

"Because I've never listened to Schubert a day in my life." She laughed as she turned to splash him.

"No, no, no, don't do that."

"Come on, live a little, Charles. What have you got to lose?"

"My dignity." He muttered.

"Your dignity is waiting for you in the jeep. This is the beach. Have fun. Look how nice of a time we're having!" Margaret turned to face him. "You are having a nice time, aren't you?"

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was. Margaret was enjoying herself without abandon, and it gave him pleasure to see that side of her. And the sand did feel curiously good between his toes.

"Yes, my dear, I am having fun.. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. Just catch up with me." She splashed him once more and then took off in a run.

"Oh, you…." Charles tried but could not keep up with her.

"Do you want me?" She called out.

"Yes, let's go back now. You've had your fun."

"Then you have to come and get me." Slowly Margaret started to back up into the water.

"Don't you dare. I will not come and get you. I refuse. You can stay out there all night. But I will not come out there and get you."

Margaret stood chest high in water. "Well, Charles. You said you wanted me! Are you hungry? You know what you have to do to get our picnic."

"I don't have to do anything. Do not be absurd! I'm not watching you! I'm going back. " and he turned to walk away. Going in the water now would require a certain lack of dignity, which he was not prepared to lose, not even for Margaret. Why must she make things so difficult? Things were going so well. He simply was not properly attired for swimming and would not, could not, swim without his trunks. To swim in his regular shorts would be ridiculous, and he was not about to make a fool out of himself. If only Margaret hadn't been so stubborn. This was so sad. He could no longer watch this scene, as it only reminded him of the opportunity he was missing out on. He had to walk away.

"I'm not moving.. she called back, as she watched him walk away. Finally he disappeared.

Margaret couldn't believe it. Charles abandoned her. He left her all alone in the water. Of all the cruel and callous things he'd pulled this really took the cake! Boy he'd had her fooled. His pride had come first, even before her. As long as he had that pride then she knew that they would never have a chance. They could never be, and it broke her heart.

The night had gone so well. Margaret had put so much care into the evening. She did think of him, and all she asked was for a little simple fun. Could he provide that? After all, if it meant that much to her than certainly it might be worth making a fool out of himself to entertain her just for this evening. Only tonight had they declared their feelings and he certainly did not want to end things before they had started. Okay, Margaret, he thought, this is for you.

Finally he had decided that some things were worth taking a chance on, and Margaret was one of those things. This was not about his parents. This was a choice he had to make for himself, and he was going to do the right thing. He was going to throw caution to the wind and swim no matter how foolish he may look. If it meant that much to Margaret then it meant that much to him. True, he'd be returning to the camp with wet clothes but he'd deal with that when he got there. Right now was about Margaret and making her happy. And he would do anything to see her smile. And so he removed his pants and prepared for a swim.

She knew she had to leave, but she saw something coming in the distance. It was Charles! He was coming back to her! He wasn't running- what did she expect- but he was walking back. Soon he met her half way and had joined her in the chest-high water. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and joined his lips in a passionate kiss. He ran his hands through her wet hair and she held on tightly to his back, not wanting to let go.

The moon shone on the couple as they shared the tender moment. He'd returned. He didn't leave her stranded. He'd faced his fear of losing his dignity and left it on the shore and had met Margaret where she was at. Most men wanted Margaret to meet them where they were at. This was a new sensation for her, one that she was sure to savor. But for right now they had the moonlight, they had a picnic waiting for them, and they had each other. And they had a borrowed jeep that Rizzo really wasn't too pleased about loaning out. They had all they needed at that moment. This was the start of something really good. If only they could both check their dignity at the shore every time then they just might have a fighting chance.


End file.
